


Potatoes and Carrots and Parsnips, Oh My

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-26
Updated: 2006-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney has awarded various parts of his anatomy with exceedingly curious names.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Potatoes and Carrots and Parsnips, Oh My

"Oh god, god, yes – yes _oh_ just a little more, little more . . . almost there, oh god, find the potato . . . "

John paused, eyebrow raised, finger buried deep in Rodney's ass. "Potato?"

Rodney looked back over his shoulder. "My personal potato."

John lifted his other eyebrow. "Your personal potato?"

"The prostate potato! What, have you never been up close and personal with a man's anatomy before? Wouldn't that be just my luck – I finally get you naked and you start wondering where all the vaginas have gone when I've a perfectly good potato waiting to be . . ."

"You call your prostate a potato?"

Rodney tilted his chin, which did little to rescue his dignity, considering he was buck naked, panting, and resting on all fours. "It's a designator that's worked well for me in the past. Could you . . ." He lifted one hand and gestured wildly, as if to suggest John quit his bitching and go back to doing what he'd been doing before root vegetables entered the conversation.

John pulled his hand back, then slid his finger home again. "Where, exactly, did you learn about gay sex?" he asked.

"Drew – McDonald, may have – ohhhh god . . . ."

"Farm kid?"

"Why do – you ask?" Rodney managed between frustrated little whimpers.

"Tell me he didn't call his dick the carrot spear of joy."

"Parsnip."

"Mc _Kay_." John stilled his hand again.

Rodney growled in frustration. "What? It's not a bad comparison! Firm! Sort of . . . creamy colored! And who the hell cares what name he chose, it's not as if I wanted to roast his cock at 350F beneath a light drizzling of olive oil!"

John blanched. "I think you just killed my hard-on."

Rodney ground his teeth. "Find my potato! Right this minute!"

"Only if I can be your cucumber of cool," John said jealously, twisting his hand.


End file.
